I miss American vintage shops. I miss them so much it physically hurts my soul. The stuff here is either made for ants or costs more than my yearly salary. Where are the high-waisted trousers? Where are the gabardine jackets? I dress like a king and I have nowhere to go but a neon-lit arcade and my freezing apartment. 孤独な王は玉座を持たない。 (The lonely king has no throne.) Bam! Poetry! Now I’m gonna go eat a convenience store egg sandwich and cry.
Convenience store egg sandwiches are a delicacy. Don”t let anyone tell you otherwise.